It was a beautiful May afternoon when Ian accompanied me on my food delivery route. He enjoys riding with me and queuing music from his playlist while I drive. These are wonderful bonding trips, where we talk, share and just enjoy being together as a couple.
The order I accepted was for a delivery out in a Native American tribal reservation. Upon retrieving the food package from a local establishment, I verified the customer order via the delivery app, which automatically launched a GPS map and set me on course. Shortly after exiting the interstate downtown, my route took me alongside an old tribal cemetery, which I’d passed before on many occasions by myself. This was the first time Ian joined me for a delivery in this part of town, and the consequences would be significant.
We stopped at a traffic signal near the tribal cemetery gates, and Ian focused his attention on something in the foliage around the massive, stone walls. “What the hell is that?” he said out loud, halfway to himself, and partially to me. He had a puzzled and unsettled look on his face. When I inquired as to what he was talking about, he replied, “I don’t know. There’s something weird there by the wall—I have no idea what it is…”
“Describe it to me,” I said, growing concerned. Something didn’t feel right.
“It’s like a large wolf, but it has a human face. Well, kind of human. It’s skin is grey and like tree bark. And the eyes…they’re moving back and forth. Not the eyeballs, but the whole eyes. It’s staring at me.”
My unease turned into alarm. “Don’t look at it, Ian,” I commanded, as the traffic signal light flashed green and I began to accelerate. But the attachment had been made, and the creature began to run alongside the car, keeping pace and looking directly into the passenger window. Ian was describing what was happening in real time, and I knew that this was some sort of tribal entity that could see that it had been seen by someone with powerful abilities. The entity mirrored our speed to 40 MPH, and continued for about a mile, during which time I started praying the Lord’s Prayer, Hail Mary and prayer to St, Michael. When we had cleared the tribal cemetery and continued farther up the road, the creature slowed down and vanished.
We were quite shaken from the experience. I made the customer delivery, and we tried to put the event behind us. But it was still in my thoughts, and I was determined to figure out what we were dealing with. Two days went by with no incident, as I researched many sites online dealing with Native American mythology, mysticism and spiritualism. In my research, I found many articles about skinwalkers, and found the description to be identical to what ran alongside our vehicle. These transformed human spirits are evil, which I classify in the category of the unclean. If that was the end of the story, I’d be quite pleased. But the worst was yet to come.
The following evening, three days from our encounter with the demon, Ian was attacked in the carport of our home as he was ascending the small side steps to our kitchen door after retrieving the day’s mail from our mailbox. I was inside at the time, and heard a loud BANG! against the kitchen door (which is painted steel), and the door flung open so hard it hit the refrigerator beside the doorway, denting the side. Ian was struggling in the doorway, moaning in pain. He had been thrown into the door, his head smacking the metal so hard it caused the door to fly open with incredible force. The sound caused my adrenaline to surge and terror to grip my mind, as I ran to the door as fast as I could and helped my husband into the kitchen. As I did so, I saw three long, bleeding gashes along his left forearm.
When I got him inside, triaged and settled comfortably, I asked him what happened. He told me that as he neared the door, he felt something grab his arm and throw him into the door. As he was being assaulted, he could see the claws and briefly recognized the face in the flurry of activity as that of the demon which stalked us near the tribal cemetery. The skinwalker had followed us home and returned three days later to attack Ian.
The spirit of my husband, Jeep, appeared and asked us what had happened. He had been alerted that something was horribly wrong. Ian described the assault, as well as the encounter with the entity days prior, and Jeep told us to wait inside while he went out to do a perimeter search to see if the demon was still nearby—as well as to investigate the origins of this unclean spirit. He returned after a few minutes and told us that the entity was gone, and that it would not come back. It had done what it wanted to do: demonstrate its power and exact vengeance upon a Caucasian medium for the crimes and murder of native tribal animals at the hands of white settlers, hundreds of years ago. This was an entity created out of hate, and hate was what it projected in spiritual form. This unholy, transformed spirit is now a demonic sentinel at the cemetery.
I released and dissolved any contracts, cords and attachments from Ian using sage, Holy Water and Holy Oil, in a ritual that has worked well for me over the years. I also contacted our priest. The next morning, after Sunday mass, our priest and deacon did a prayer and blessing upon Ian.
As I occasionally have to drive by this place when I take orders for delivery, I now anoint my forehead with Holy Oil and Holy Water before my shifts, and always recite the three prayers of protection when I am passing by this burial place (the Lord’s Prayer, Hail Mary and prayer to St. Michael), as well as do the sign of the cross.
True to Jeep’s prediction, the skinwalker has not returned. I will never let my guard down when in the vicinity of the tribal cemetery, however. Just as good exists in the form of noble native spirits who are resting in that place, there is also great evil and hatred. A lesson that applies throughout the world in places where there is violence and murder upon the innocent.
Below is the video footage from our security camera of the assault. As you can see when Ian struggles to regain his composure after being slammed into the door, the bleeding scratches are visible along his forearm where he was grabbed.